It's Cold Outside
by p0ck3tf0x
Summary: Prussia was not one for ice skating but it was impossible to resist Canada when he asked so nicely. 'Please' was a more powerful word than most realized.
1. Chapter 1

_Synopsis: Prussia was not one for ice skating but it was impossible to resist Canada when he asked with such sweetness. 'Please' was a more powerful word than most realized. _

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

"_Oh, but it's cold outside. ~ "_

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><p><strong>It's Cold Outside<strong>

"It's cold."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"No."

Prussia was perched on the end of the makeshift bench with a frown. He was wearing two sweaters, a jacket that almost covered his knees, and three scarves that he had tied together into one awful, mismatched conglomeration. It was five feet long and wrapped half a dozen times around him. He was wearing gloves tucked inside his mittens and his fingers were still cold. There was a dreadful knitted 'toque' that clashed with his colouring and kept slipping down and ruining the effect of his glare.

He looked as if he were the youngest child of seven unfortunate hand-me-downs.

Worst of all were the battered ice skates that Canada was strapping to his feet.

"It will be fun."

"It will not."

"It will too," Canada was kneeling in the snow as he threaded the ice skates with practiced motion. Under different circumstances, Prussia might have been pleased with the position, but he was nervous as it was. "You drag me along on all sorts of odd adventures that end in… Well… This is a nice, normal date for nice, normal couples."

"Nice, maybe, but normal? What about when we…?"

"Illegal."

"Or when we…"

"Amoral."

"Or…?"

"No, and I have not forgiven you for that one either."

Canada could finish his thoughts without looking up from the laces. Prussia tugged down on the pompoms that were hanging from his hat on knitted strings to showcase his displeasure and it slipped lower on Canada to cover his nose.

He sighed and stopped lacing.

Canada pushed 'toque' back into place with the heel of his palm. He did look at Prussia now but with a frown. Canada swept the jacket further up to bunch on his lap and rested his cheek on his knee. Prussia was surprised that his cheek was warm in this weather but grateful nonetheless.

"It's cold out." He said it again in case it had been missed the first time.

"Welcome to the 'Great White North'. What were you expecting?"

"Sun. Sand. Coconuts!"

"The hell you were."

Canada tucked himself between his legs with no mind to the snow beneath him and looked up at Prussia with the widest, most innocent stare in his arsenal. He trailed his fingers along the inside seam of his pants in unasked but understood question. He had convinced Prussia to come this far and he needed that last resignation of his crumbling will not to ice skate. Prussia wanted to keep what little was left of his poise and decorum but those fingers dancing on the seam were distracting.

"No." He tried to resist.

"Yes."

"No?"

"Yes." His voice was firm even as his eyes were soft.

"… Alright." It was difficult to resist the other nation when he wanted something, truly wanted it, and Prussia failed every time. He bent over to place a chaste kiss on the tip of his red nose.

Canada grinned and pushed back to continue on the laces.

He was wearing far less than Prussia but seemed much warmer; one jacket, one hat, one pair of mittens. That was it. It might have been insulting if Prussia were not above such trivial emotions.

He tied an elegant knot with a flourish.

"There."

"… Why does that knot suddenly seem like the hangman's noose?"

"That would be because you are a chicken."

"Do not speak of chickens to me! You know how I feel about them!"

"Then come on." Canada stood and managed to balance just fine on snow with his ice skates. He had tied his first and laughed when he saw that Prussia was still struggling with his. "Let's go."

He held out his hand but Prussia just glared at it. He tried to get up on his own.

"Ah!"

He slipped, of course, and received a mouthful of snow for his trouble.

Canada hauled him upright with surprising strength and looped their arms together for equilibriumas he guided them towards the frozen water of the river. It had been cleared of white and the ice beneath was the colour of fog at dawn.

"Come on, come on, let's go." He was excited but Prussia was not.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

Canada stopped their strange, huddled stride to stare at him. It was difficult to be elegant wearing ice skates on anything except for ice.

"Safe? You? You are worried about whether or not it is safe?" He burst into laughter. "Who are you and what have you done with Gilbert?"

"Oh, ha, ha. That is hilarious," Prussia frowned. "This is serious!"

"Yes, yes, we've been over this. It's safe."

"Safe, safe or 'Canadian safe'?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that Canadians believe that wandering through the woods is safe or launching themselves down mountains is safe or," Prussia pointed to his ice skates, "that strapping knives to their feet and dancing on thin ice is safe!"

Canada cocked an eyebrow but he started walking again and continued dragging Prussia with him.

"You've thought this through, I see."

The two of the reached the dividing line between snow and ice.

"Yes."

"And nothing I say will convince you otherwise?"

Prussia glared at the ice.

"No."

"What if I said," Canada fluttered his eyelashes, "please?"

Prussia glanced from him to the ice to him to the ice. He sighed.

"I hate you."

"But you'll do it?"

"I'll do it."

Canada beamed and let go of his arm with the rustle of their jackets passing against each other. He jumped backwards onto the ice and held his hands out for Prussia as he floated to the other side of the river.

He was skating backwards as if it were the easiest talent to master in the world.

Backwards.

Prussia frowned at him and allowed one tentative foot to touch the ice. It was not so difficult. He could do this.

He picked up the other foot and that was when it all went to hell.

His first foot slid forward and to keep from gymnastics he had to bring the second foot forward too but then the first one slipped again. It was an odd, scissoring sort of prance that looked and felt ridiculous.

Canada floated past him in gliding motion with his hands clasped behind his back. He was laughing.

"Come on, then. Let's go. I'm waiting."

"Fuck you."

"Later. We're skating."

"You're skating. I'm…" Prussia gestured to himself with a frantic up and down gesticulation. "Not. I'm not."

Canada was still laughing but he came to a halt in front of Prussia with a splash of ice shavings and mist. He held out his hands again.

"Please?" Prussia let Canada wrap his mittens around his own and coax him forward. "Left. Right. Left. Right."

Prussia concentrated on the steps and not on his good natured laughter but he could not match his grace.

"What part of this is 'fun'?"

"This part!"

Canada tugged him forward with a little more force and the two of them darted across the ice in random patterns.

"Ah! Ah! Matthew! Not awesome!" He was weaving back and forth and Prussia was coming for the ride. He was not shifting his feet much anymore and was instead just holding onto Canada for dear life. He started to spin in circles, alternating tight and then wide, until Canada was all he could focus on whilst the rest of the world was blurring. "Not awesome!"

Canada began to slow down before coming to a laughing rest. His cheeks and nose were bright red from the freezing temperature but it suited him. He let go of his hands and Prussia tumbled to the ice.

Canada bent down to poke him.

"Are you still alive?"

"No thanks to you," he mumbled into the ice.

"Does it hurt?"

"'It?' You need to be more specific; everything hurts."

"Would hot chocolate make it better?"

Prussia thought about it.

"… It might."

Canada laughed again and the tinkling sound managed to warm him somewhat.

"Alright. Give me five more minutes."

"… And then hot chocolate?" It sounded piteous even to his ears.

"And then hot chocolate."

"With marshmallows?"

"With marshmallows."

"Fine. Five minutes."

Canada was gone in a second to skate in loops and languid 'figure eights'. Prussia continued to lie on the ice to soothe his bruised ego but it could not last because it was too cold. He gathered himself up into a neat little pile to watch Canada.

Prussia often watched Canada on the rink during team sports but this was different. There was a level of aggression in ice hockey that was missing here.

Canada had closed his eyes as if he knew where the snowbanks or other obstacles might be. His hands were clasped behind his back again and he was humming under his breath in little gasps. He seemed so peaceful in this moment that it was simple to forget the muscles and amount of control involved in skating. He might as well have been made of liquid grace for all his lack of straining.

Canada made ice skating seem effortless and, even when Prussia knew the truth, he could almost believe it.

The cold was seeping through his layers but the thought of attempting to stand and instead making a fool of himself kept him on the ice. The cold did not bother him as much as it might most nations but he would never have that stamina that countries above 60degrees north developed.

It was still cold, though.

Canada came to a stop in front of him with another splash. He was smiling but it was more serene than his earlier laughter. It was as if he had been lit from the inside. He offered Prussia his hand and this time Prussia did not gripe; he just held on.

"Thank you," Canada whispered as he guided Prussia back towards the bench in halting steps.

"You're welcome." Prussia was not sure what he was thanking him for but that was alright. It had been important to Canada, whatever it was, and that was enough.

Canada pushed him down on the bench and settled to start unlacing his ice skates but Prussia instead tugged on those pompoms for his attention. Canada looked up, perhaps to berate him, but Prussia managed to bend over and land a kiss instead.

It was soft and sweet although their lips were cold and turning blue.

There was too much clothing between them to do more, as disappointing as that was, so Prussia touched their covered foreheads together. It would do for now.

"So… Hot chocolate?" Canada was still whispering and Prussia realized how hushed it was in the wintertime. There was a stillness even in the sunlit afternoon that could not be found in other seasons. It suited Canada and his quiet moments.

"There are other ways to keep warm," he leant forward to kiss him again, "but hot chocolate is good too."

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><p><em><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>_

_And that's where I will stop that. It is in the same universe as a couple of other pieces I have written._

_This has little to do with the piece but one of my favourite terms is 'toque bucket'. If you are from Canada, you might have one of these and not even know it. It's that bucket/basket/container sitting at the front door with miscellaneous hats, mittens, and scarves, most of which do not match. In the summer it gets tucked in the closet or basement but most families I know keep one in the winter. The term 'toque bucket' just sits so… I like the taste of it, if that makes sense. "Toque bucket, toque bucket, toque bucket!"_

_It's minus 40c at the moment, which is also known as "fuck, it's cold" or "mah tahngue ish sthuck to thish pole" (my tongue is stuck to this pole). So I wrote this! Fun fact: I live in the coldest city in the world with a population over 600 000. Yeah, suck on that for awhile._

_For those of you who pay attention, I have been online off and on because it's been a tough year. The one year anniversary for the death of my father is in two weeks and I am currently hanging out with my mum in the hospital as we go through yet another round of chemotherapy and radiation therapy. We have a donor, though, so the transplant should be next week or so! Yatta! Ah, but the point of this is to ask that you continue to be patient with me as I update as a glacial pace. I did just post 'Faith' and 'It's Starting to Show' if you care to take a gander. Cheers!_

__**Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review; I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece.**__


	2. Chapter 2

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

"_Oh, but it's cold outside. ~ "_

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><p><strong>It's Cold Outside<strong>

"… What is that?"

Canada raised an eyebrow and motioned with his left hand. He was holding a steaming hot chocolate and the tendrils of warmth coloured the air for a second before disappearing altogether.

"Your hot chocolate?"

"No, what is _that_?"

Prussia pointed to his right hand and the ice cream cone therein. The waffle cone was wrapped around two scoops of soft, taupe ice cream with speckles of darker russet.

"Ice cream."

"Ice cream!" His voice was strangled as he leaned forward for his hot chocolate. He cradled it away from the offending treat. "Why the fuck do you have ice cream?"

Canada considered the question as he sat down on the bench next to him; their ice skates were tucked under the bench and out of the way. The area around them was enclosed on three sides and open to the elements on the other. It was further down the river trail than where the two of them had been skating, or rather, where Canada had been skating and Prussia had been falling. There were several other benches scattered between the makeshift pressboard partitions and a mobile canteen furthest from the open side.

"… Because it is delicious?"

"Matthew, it's cold outside. Who the hell wants ice cream when it is this cold outside?"

Canada glanced around the sheltered area. It was less cold here, out of the wind, but it was not as much of a difference as Prussia would have preferred. There were several other couples and families here; two awkward teenagers on their first date, a mother and father with their daughter, a child and his brother. Friends and families brought together over the glacial weather, each one caught in their own little world.

Half of them were holding ice cream cones of their own.

"Everyone?" Canada ventured and pointed to some of them. He was wearing a slight, crooked smile that meant he was either humouring Prussia or teasing him. Maybe both.

"No, not everyone," Prussia pouted and raised the hot chocolate to his lips. It scorched his tongue but for a moment, one precious moment, a piece of him was warm. Too warm, perhaps, but it would have to do. "Just Canadians."

Canada scooted next to him so that their legs were touching. He offered the ice cream to Prussia but Prussia slipped further down the bench and far from the dreaded cold treat.

"Gilbert, it's just ice cream."

"'Ice' being the operative word," he mumbled with a glare. He was not glaring at Canada so much as at the ice cream.

Prussia had endured a humiliating defeat on the ice this afternoon just because Canada had said 'please'. He had worn battered ice skates and a ridiculous amount of mismatched clothing just because he asked. He had fallen, and fallen, and fallen some more. It had been horrible, and cold, and his muscles ached with the strain of it. He had done more than enough for the other nation.

And now he was being threatened with ice cream.

Canada came closer, brandishing the ice cream, and Prussia slipped further down the bench again. He cocked his head to the side.

"Are you… afraid of it?"

"No, shut up," Prussia sulked and sipped at his hot chocolate.

"You are!"

"Shut up, go away, I hate you," he growled into the marshmallows floating in his beverage and melting in white swirls.

His smile broadened and he kicked his boot against the crushed snow. The footsteps of a thousand men and women before them had packed the snow tight in this strange not quite inside, not quite outside area. Canada watched his citizens in the ramshackle shelter.

"You are," he laughed but his expression softened as he watched them.

Prussia narrowed his glare but decided to focus on the warmth in his hands and on his lips. It grounded him. He followed his gaze and also watched the citizens with a detached sort of interest. They were laughing and happy even in this weather; no one here was cold because no one here was alone.

He could see that kindness, that compassion he was famous for, as Canada watched his citizens and it made his own heart twinge. He no longer represented a populace or a government or a landscape. He was alone. So alone.

It hurt, sometimes. Not as much as it used to, but sometimes.

Canada came closer again but this time reached for his hand and clasped it in his own, mitten on mitten. Prussia tore his gaze from the friends and families to stare at Canada; beautiful, wonderful Canada who could care less whether he was a nation in truth or lie, whether he was a 'good' man or a 'bad' man, whether he could ice skate or not.

He kissed him and Canada let him.

Hmmm...

Canada tasted familiar but he could not decide on the flavour. He pushed back and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What flavour is that?"

Canada smirked and leaned forward.

"You never did ask," his voice was low and rough as it always was when he was entertaining wicked, mischievous thoughts. He offered the frozen treat again and Prussia slipped further down the bench to avoid it.

"What flavour?"

"Guess."

Canada came closer.

"Chocolate?"

Prussia retreated and tried to convince himself that it was a tactical retreat. In fact, it was less retreating and more 'attacking in the opposite direction'.

"No," he whispered and came closer. Prussia pushed backwards.

"Mocha?"

"No…"

"Ummm…"

Prussia was at the absolute end of the bench. There was nowhere else to go. His hot chocolate was not so much hot as cold now but he kept it between him and the other nation as weak protection. His pride could not handle another hit after the ice skating this afternoon but Canada had other ideas.

Canada raised the ice cream cone to his lips and licked up and around and Prussia stopped thinking altogether.

Oh, dear.

His mouth opened and closed as he scrambled for another flavour to guess but it was a lost cause now. His traitorous mind had abandoned him in favour of his libido.

Canada licked his lips and came closer and Prussia slipped further back as he tried to gather his thoughts and remember the reason ice cream was such a terrible idea. It did not seem like such a terrible idea when Canada was licking his lips.

He had forgotten that he was at the end of the line.

"Ah!"

Prussia lost his balance and tumbled off the bench onto the packed snow. His hot, cold, chocolate splashed up the front of his borrowed clothes and stained his multitude of scarves. It knocked the air out of him so he decided to lie there and ignore the snickers of the teenagers in the shelter with them.

Canada appeared above him and seemed flustered, all seduction gone.

"Oh, oh no, I did not mean to… I just… And you!"

Prussia watched him wave his hands in anxious circles with the ice cream still clutched in one hand as he remembered how to breathe. In, out, in, out.

"You…"

"Oh, Gilbert, I was just… Oh, please forgive me."

Prussia reached up and found purchase on one of his sleeves. He tugged down, hard, and Canada tumbled to land on his chest. It knocked the air out of him all over again and he coughed. Prussia might have lost his beverage when he fell but Canada somehow managed hold on to the ice cream cone, although his toque was askew. Canada peered down at him from were he was sitting on his chest and his cheeks were ablaze in embarrassment.

He was cute and, more than that, he had said 'please'. Prussia never could resist him when he said 'please'

Prussia sighed and reached for the ice cream. His pride was dead and gone anyway; what did he have to lose at this point? He bit into it. It was sweet with pieces of a burnt, salted aftertaste.

He raised it above his head and studied it.

"What the hell is that?"

Canada was shocked that he had stolen his ice cream but he still answered.

"It's, well, it's 'maple bacon'," he stuttered.

Prussia paused.

"Maple… Bacon?"

"Uh, yes."

"You threatened me with maple bacon ice cream?"

Canada bit his lip and seemed caught between a teasing smile and apologies. He often was.

"Offered; I _offered _you maple bacon ice cream."

Prussia blinked up at him. Canada asked him out on a 'nice, normal date' and then subjected him to maple bacon ice cream? It was delicious, of course, but cold. So cold. So, so cold.

And so, so strange too.

The snow beneath him was freezing and the cold was seeping through his jacket and two sweaters. He was numb except where Canada was perched on his chest. He shivered.

"It's cold, and you threatened me with ice cream," he said it again, just to be sure.

"I did not."

"You did too."

"Gilbert, it's just ice cream!"

"Bullshit. It's a weapon of mass consumption."

It was his turn to blink before Canada chuckled and plucked the ice cream from his upraised hand. He tried to hold it out of reach but it was not far enough.

"It is not."

"You owe me, now."

"I do not."

"You do too." Prussia pouted but the effect was ruined with another shiver. He knocked the ice cream out of his hand and it landed upside down on the snow. Prussia cackled, his opponent vanquished, but Canada gasped and seemed insulted.

"You owe me now," he said again and tugged on the pompoms of his toque. Canada tore his wistful gaze from the ice cream to stare at the other nation. Prussia tugged on the pompoms again so that Canada leant over him from where he sat on his chest. "And I think I know how you can make it up to me…"

"Oh?"

Their noses touched.

"You can warm me up."

Canada kissed him; soft at first and then a little more insistent, and Prussia returned the favour. He let his hands slide up his jacket and to the warm skin beneath that. Everywhere that their bodies met was warm, hot, and it was a welcome change after ice skating and ice cream.

Prussia had had enough 'ice' to last him for a while.

Canada stopped to breath and that teasing smile was back.

"How's that, then?" His voice was breathless and quiet but he was close enough that Prussia could hear him just fine. Canada worried his fingers along the edges of his scarves but kept his eyes focused on Prussia.

Prussia grinned.

"Hot."

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><p><em><strong>Author's Notes<strong>_

_Well, this is a ridiculous little addition but it was floating around and I wanted to post something, anything, before I leave for a week. I have had similar conversations to this with foreigners, minus the kissing._

_Yes, 'maple bacon' is an actual flavour. I've partaken in it twice. It's delicious, I suppose, although the bits of bacon have an odd texture. It makes me feel very, very, very Canadian; what with the maple and 'Canadian' bacon (we just call it bacon up here)._

_So, I am still around and even still writing. It is just that the projects I am working on are multiple chapters and I refuse to post before a) I'm done, and b) I update 'Tired of Waiting' because it is only fair. Soon, soon, soon! I also have some one shots that should be posted before that._

_**Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review; I do not mind. Please let me know what you think of this piece.**_


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